Ever Dream
by Katyla
Summary: It is ten years after the fall of Voldemort, but Ginny's life is not quite as she imagined it to be. Will Ginny be able to withstand temptation when a dangerous man from her past returns, or will she destroy her marriage? DG. R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Ok, this was supposed to be the sequel to one of my other D/G fics, Tarnished Gold, but since the plot bunnies seem to be taking their time in giving me something to write for TG, I decided that I wanted to start with this one so long. It is therefore a stand-alone fic, with no reference what so ever to either my other D/G fics. That said, here we go! Please remember to review!**

**Summary:**** Ten years after the death of Voldemort a new Dark Lord is on the rise, but his identity is still hidden. Auror Harry Potter and his estranged wife Ginny Weasley find their marriage suffering under the strain of Harry's job, and to add to the stress Ginny's hidden past still haunts her. Can Ginny resist temptation as a major player from her past makes a sudden reappearance? **

**Rating:**** R by the old system, M by the new one. Will contain scenes of violence and sex, although neither will be worse than can be seen in late night movies. **

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts or any of the characters/places/animals/plants/minerals etc that you recognize in this story. If I did, I would be the richest woman in the world, and guess what, I'm not. So, before you try and sue me, I might also add that I do not make ANY money out of this story whatsoever (darn!). Yep, that's about it. Don't own it, don't benefit from it.**

**Ever Dream**

**By: Katyla**

Harry Potter didn't even look up as his wife came down the stairs. He hadn't slept at all the previous night, and was feeling the strain as the clock struck seven. Without a word to him, Ginny started to brew a pot of coffee and threw some eggs into a frying pan. He wasn't exaggerating, she really did _throw_ them. Harry knew she was still angry about the fight they had the previous evening, but he didn't feel like being the first one to apologize. It's not like he was the only one who had been in the wrong.

Ginny banged a coffee mug down on the counter with such a clatter that Harry was surprised it didn't break. She was doing it all for his benefit, he knew, but he studiously ignored her, rather opting to stare blankly down at the papers before him. The smell of coffee drifting from Ginny's mug was divine; Harry bit his tongue to keep from asking for a mug. He knew from experience that Ginny had only made enough for herself, and asking her to make more would only result in a full-out brawl.

There was a sizzling sound as Ginny added some bacon to the hot pan, and before long the small kitchen was filled with the smells of bacon, eggs and toast. None of it was for him though. After filling a plate with food, Ginny chucked the pan into the sink with a clatter, grabbed her mug of coffee and the food and headed back up the stairs without a backward glance.

When he heard the door of their bedroom slam shut, Harry dropped his aching head onto his folded arms, groaning softly. Their marriage had never exactly been all moon-shine and roses before, but the last year had been extremely tough on them. Harry's promotion to Head Auror of the Department of Magical Defence had seemed like such a blessing in the beginning, but time had revealed it as a curse. Not that Harry would give up his job for anything in the world – not even to save his marriage – and Ginny knew that. This was exactly what made the whole situation worse.

The fight the previous night had started the same as always. Harry had come home two hours later than he had promised, and found Ginny still sitting quietly at their dinning room table, the meal she had prepared cold and untouched before her. He only had to look at her face once to know that he was in big trouble. Ginny was a woman of great passion, and usually this zest for life shone out of every pore of her body. Her temper was lighting quick and feisty, often violent, but when she became really angry – and he meant _really_ angry – she suddenly locked up, and everything became ice cold.

Her eyes were like ice that night, and Harry was hard pressed to give her a small smile. "Sorry I'm late…" He began, but she didn't even give him time to finish his sentence.

"You're sorry?" She hissed her voice dangerously low. "You're sorry!" Ginny pushed herself up from the chair, and Harry had to swallow hard as he saw what she was wearing. His wife was wearing a small, clinging black dress with an open back, a low neckline and a slit up to mid-thigh. "You forget about our five year anniversary, and then come home two hours late?"

Harry had to duck as the salt shaker went flying over his head, shattering against the wall. He felt as if the bottom of his stomach had suddenly and unexpectedly fallen into his shoes. He really had forgotten about their anniversary, and he was in for it now.

"I just got caught up at work, honey, you know I wouldn't…" he was interrupted yet again as a heavy vase holding red roses was thrown at him, forcing him to jump out of the way.

"Fucking hell, Ginny!" He screamed as the expensive vase smashed to bits against the wall, spilling water and roses across the carpet. She was screaming right back at him, calling him all sorts of names as her hand groped for another object to throw.

Lunging forward Harry grabbed her hands, restraining her from breaking any more of their property.

"Get your hands off me!" She growled, shaking furiously in his grasp.

"No!" He growled back, giving her a hard shake for good measure. "Not until you calm down."

"I will not calm down, Harry!" She was pulling hard now, trying to fight her way free. "Let me go, you have no right to do this."

"You are my wife." Harry hissed, tightening his grip on her. "And I will hold you like this until you stop acting like a child."

Ginny aimed a kick at his shin, but he managed to side-step it. "Then perhaps you should start treating me like your wife!" She yelled at him, baring her teeth as if she would happily tear out his throat for him.

"And how am I supposed to treat someone who throws things at me?" His own anger rising, Harry was yelling right back. For once he didn't care if the neighbours heard them.

"If you were around more, and actually bothered to keep your promises, I wouldn't have to throw things at you." A lone tear was making its way down Ginny's cheek, and she shook her head angrily. Harry knew she hated crying, but it didn't keep her from screaming like a banshee.

"You know how busy I am, Ginny. You knew when you married me that we would both have to make sacrifices. My job is very important!" He loosened his grip on her slightly, thinking her calmer.

With one vicious tug Ginny managed to free herself from Harry's grasp and nimbly managed to step out of his reach. 'Ah yes, and heaven forbid that Harry Bleeding Potter should be at home with his wife when he could be out there saving the world." Her tone was sharp and sarcastic. "Please forgive me oh Boy-Who-Is-The-Hero-Of-The-World, but I thought Voldemort was dead!"

Harry tried to get something in sideways, but Ginny just bulldozed over him. "It must seem so selfish of me to want some time with my _husband_, when all I'm actually doing is keeping him from saving the whole bloody planet. How could I have ever been so selfish?" She shot him a sharp look, the sarcasm in her voice dripping like venom.

"Ginny…" Harry began, his voice low and dangerous.

"Fuck you Harry." Ginny replied, turning away from him and starting her trek up the stairs. "Oh, and by the way, don't even try to show your face in that room tonight."

And so Harry had spent his night downstairs, going through his work in a bid to keep his thoughts from wandering to the room where his wife lay. With a sigh he got up to make himself breakfast, and then went up to their bedroom. She was in the shower when Harry softly pushed open the door, but before he could manage to gather his clothes and slip out again, the door to the bathroom opened in a cloud of steam.

Ginny came waltzing in wearing nothing but a towel, and it suddenly struck Harry that he hadn't seen his wife naked in more than six months. She grabbed her clothes off the bed and walked back into the bathroom without a backward glance, leaving Harry to shower in the guest bedroom.

**A/N: That's that for the first chapter. I know it's short, but this is sort of a tantalizer. The second chapter is almost finished, but unless I get some reviews on this, I won't be posting it. So, whether you get the second chapter or not is up to you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**** Hello all! Yes I know blackmailing for reviews isn't nice, but sometimes a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do. So anyway, thanks to my wonderful readers, in whose debt I will forever be, I was inspired to finish writing the second chapter of Ever Dream. I hope you guys like it and continue reading and reviewing. Thanks again!**

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**Chapter 2**

Ginny Weasley was not a happy woman when she stepped out of the Burrow's main fireplace. Her mother gave her one look and put the kettle on. As always Molly's first reaction to her daughter's trouble was a good strong cup of tea. A few ginger biscuits were also hastily pulled from a red glazed jar, as Molly believed that Ginny was becoming way too skinny.

She bustled round the kitchen as Ginny made herself comfortable in one of the chairs around the kitchen table, luxuriating in the warm morning sun streaming through the large window. Ginny sat quietly for a long while, simply sipping her tea and nibbling at a biscuit. It didn't take much for Molly to see that her daughter was horribly upset, but she knew that prying wouldn't help. Ginny would tell her mother what was troubling her when she was ready.

"I said some horrible things to Harry last night, Mum." The youngest Weasley was staring blankly ahead, the fingers of one slender hand idly fiddling with the handle of the cup before her.

"Oh, honey, what happened?" Molly frowned and settled herself down in a chair opposite her daughter, helping herself to one of the brown biscuits.

"He forgot our anniversary, and came home two hours late and…and I just lost it. I started throwing things and screaming, and then…then I said some really nasty things." Her voice got quieter and quieter as she continued, and it broke Molly's heart to see her daughter look so down-trodden.

Molly knew that her daughter and Harry's marriage was not going well. They'd had a lot of problems with Harry's work load, which took up most of his time, and Molly knew that Harry's blind dedication to his work made it hard for him to see Ginny's side of the story. The fact that Ginny was no longer working also worsened the situation, since Ginny no longer had anything to occupy herself with. And to add to it, Ginny had really hoped to have started a family by now, but Harry had protested that he was too busy to be raising children. The latter had been a sore blow to Ginny, who had wanted a few children of her own, having come out of the large family that she did.

"Sweetie, these things happen. We all say things we regret." Molly reached over and placed a comforting hand on her daughter's arm. "I'm sure you and Harry just need to sit down and talk things out." Even as she said it Molly knew that simply talking things out would not sort the marriage. Both Harry and Ginny were too stubborn to budge an inch from what they wanted or valued. From experience Molly knew that a successful marriage was based on being able to improvise and sometimes even to sacrifice for the good of the marriage. But she also understood Ginny's side of the argument, and tended to side with her daughter.

"I don't know anymore, Mum. I don't know if this can work for much longer." Ginny sighed and dropped the biscuit she was only half-heartedly nibbling on. "I never see him anymore, and when he is home he usually has his nose buried in work till the small hours of the morning."

"You can't just give up honey; you and Harry have always been so perfect for each other. I know you can make it work if you both tried hard enough." It was true, Harry and Ginny had always been an amazing team, during and after the war, but somehow things started falling apart.

"I know Mum, I know, but somehow I just can't imagine why we ever were such a good team. These days we can barely look each other in the eye without fighting."

Molly frowned slightly in concentration, an idea starting to form in her mind. "I think I know just what you need Gin-bug." She smiled softly. "You and Harry need to go on a nice holiday together; no work, no friends and no relatives. It will give the two of you time to sort out your problems for good and maybe find a compromise."

"Like Harry would willingly give up his work time to go on holiday with me." Ginny snorted. "Not likely Mum."

"At least run it by him, Ginny. He might just surprise you." Molly got up to refill her daughter's cup.

"We're not even speaking right now. How on earth am I going to get the idea to him? Charades perhaps?" Ginny's tone held no humour, and her eyes still had the slightly life-less quality that worried Molly more than she would care to admit.

"Then be the adult Ginny. Be the first one to give instead of just another one who tries to pull." Molly smiled. "You'll be surprised how much leverage you can get simply by playing the bigger person."

"I'll try Mum." Ginny pushed back her chair and walked around the table, giving her mother a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the tea and everything."

"No problem, honey."

Ginny was half-way to the fireplace before she stopped and turned back to her mother. "Try not to worry too much, please?"

Seeing her mother nod and smile, Ginny grabbed a handful of powder and disappeared into the fireplace.

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"Harry?"

It was around seven o'clock that night when Ginny came into the small house she and Harry owned. The lights were on in the kitchen, and Ginny made her way through the living-room, dropping her parcels on one of the couches. Instead of spending the day sulking at home, Ginny had managed to convince Hermione and Luna to go on a shopping trip with her. She came home with a new pair of shoes, two new tops, a skirt and a jacket. Too bad it didn't really make her feel much better.

She sighed softly as she walked into the little kitchen to find her husband surrounded by paperwork – as usual. At least it seemed as if the maid had come because there was no evidence of the breakfast Ginny had made that morning. Several boxes of take-away Chinese food were stacked on one counter, but it didn't appear as if Harry had eaten yet.

"Harry?" She asked again, softer this time. Ginny was rewarded when her husband looked up from his work. She could see the dark circles beneath his eyes, and she became painfully aware of the fact that he probably hadn't slept the previous night.

"Can we talk?" After moving the take-away boxes onto the table, Ginny took a seat opposite her husband. He didn't close the file before him, and he didn't put down his quill, but Ginny kept a tight rein on her temper, refusing to let another screaming match take place. Her mother was right, someone had to give sometime, and it seemed that once again Ginny would be the one.

"Sure." It was all he said; one lousy little word. Ginny clenched her fists beneath the table.

"Look, about last night…" He didn't give her much time to finish.

"It doesn't matter Ginny." Harry gave a heavy sigh and dropped his tired gaze back to his work.

"No, it does matter." She insisted none too gently. "And…and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the things I said." Ginny bit her lip to keep from yelling at him to look up at her.

"It's fine, Ginny, just forget about it ok?" This time Harry looked up. "We were both in the wrong. I don't blame you for what you said."

Ginny nodded and started opening the take-away, passing several of the boxes and a pair of chopsticks towards Harry. They ate in silence for a while until Ginny couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you remember Harry, just after we got married? Do you remember how we used to sit on the rug before the fireplace and eat Chinese, laughing our heads off 'cause we couldn't keep the rice on the chop sticks?" She smiled sadly and refrained from adding how they used to discard the half-empty boxes of food in favour of passionate love-making.

"Yeah, I remember." Harry pushed away his empty box and stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Those were good times."

Ginny stood as well and started clearing away the left-overs. "What happened to those times, Harry? What changed?"

"I don't know Gin, I really don't know." Harry started up the stairs to their bedroom, Ginny following in his wake. He seemed more tired than Ginny had ever seen him before, and she felt a pang of regret at her actions of the previous night. It was short-lived however as they entered the room and Ginny saw the dress she had worn the previous night, still lying discarded on the floor.

Harry had removed both his shoes and his shirt before Ginny worked up the guts to ask him the big question.

"Harry, I was wondering." She started as she pulled her dressing gown over her head. "Can't we go on holiday sometime soon? You know, just the two of us?"

"Gin, you know how busy I am at work, I really can't take the time off now." Harry gave a tired sigh and removed his pants.

"Please, it doesn't have to be long. Just for a weekend? Please?" Ginny's eyes were filling with unshed tears despite her best efforts. She hadn't realised how important it was to her that he said yes until it seemed that he wouldn't.

"We'll see, ok? But I can't promise anything." Harry disappeared into the bathroom and Ginny sat down in front of her dressing table, slowly pulling a brush through her thick red hair.

She hated the colour, perhaps only because it had been mocked as garish one too many times when she was younger, but thankfully it had acquired a thick lustre as she grew older. It hung to the small of her back in a thick curtain, framing her oval face with its pale skin and dusting of freckles.

Harry moved back into their room, the smell of mint toothpaste and soap emanating off him as he climbed into their bed. Ginny sat quietly for a while more, mechanically drawing the brush through her hair. By the time she stood up, Harry was already fast asleep.

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Quite a way from the Potter's small cottage, in a large, antique mansion, Draco Malfoy and his mother were having a fight. This was not a very common occurrence in the Malfoy house-hold, for Draco had been taught from a young age not to talk back to his mother. On this particular subject, however, Draco was putting his foot down – loudly.

"Mother, we haven't had a ball in the Manor since before Dad went to Azkaban. Why would you want to have one now?" Draco was trying really hard not to sound like a whining child, although he couldn't quite decide whether he wanted to whine or shout.

"It is your twenty-eighth birthday, Draco, and it is time that you celebrate a birthday properly." Narcissa Malfoy was still a splendid-looking woman, and perched upon a plush dark-green chair she looked as regal as a queen. "Besides, it is time that the Malfoy name is once again associated with great social gatherings. The ballroom has been out of use for such a long time."

"For a good reason." Draco muttered under his breath, but he did not voice his sentiments out loud. "Wouldn't you rather have a small party mother, perhaps only a few close friends and relatives?"

"No, we might as well do it properly – as Malfoy's should." Narcissa had a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, and Draco knew that that never boded well.

"I don't want to host a ball, Mother, I have no time for such useless idiosyncrasies." Draco sighed in frustration and continued his pacing, silently hoping that he could wear out a track on the plush carpet.

"A ball would be a great opportunity to show the wizarding world that you have fully relinquished your father's sentiments and that you are ready to fully integrate the Malfoy name back into polite society." A satisfied smile was now clearly visible on his mother's face, softening her aquiline features slightly.

Draco clenched his jaw. Would he have to spend the rest of his life outliving his father's stupidity? "The wizarding world know exactly what my sympathies are, Mother." He couldn't believe that he had been glad when his mother decided to leave her Tuscan villa for a while in order to visit him.

"All the better then to make them welcome in the Manor again, Draco." She might be smiling, but Narcissa's eyes held a glint of steel.

"I said no, Mother." Draco was losing his patience, and he unconsciously snapped at Narcissa.

Narcissa raised a delicately arched eyebrow at her son's tone. "It will only take one evening of your time, Draco, I will take the organisation of the entire affair completely upon myself."

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, his annoyance becoming clearer by the moment. "Will it stop your nagging, Mother?" He'd never been that rude to his mother before, and Draco could see from her expression that she was not pleased in the least.

"Yes, it will."

"Fine, but I don't want to hear or see anything about the ball until that night." He had to close his eyes for a moment to steel himself for what he had agreed to.

"Of course." Narcissa's smile was feral.

**A/N:**** Right, that's it for this chapter. Please let me know what you think by reviewing! **


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